


Blades of Avowal

by NortheasternWind



Category: Dark Souls III, Middle-earth: Shadow of Mordor (Video Games)
Genre: Dubious?????? Consent???? To Marriage???????, Happy Ending, M/M, features pre-torture pre-ring Celebrimbor so unfortunately he's baby, instead of good old asshole Brimbro, like they're both fine with it but technically one of them is incapable of consent at the time, major character death i guess
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-15 22:26:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29443308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NortheasternWind/pseuds/NortheasternWind
Summary: Talion accidentally gets Celebrimbor assassinated and, in his remorse, marries him by stabbing the corpse in the face.That's pretty much it.
Relationships: Celebrimbor | Telperinquar/Talion (Shadow of Mordor)
Kudos: 15





	Blades of Avowal

**Author's Note:**

> (I wanted to call this Shadow of the Ash but I'd hate to waste such a cool title from such a nice song on such a short, silly fic ahaha.)
> 
> You know how I keep saying "this is not the silliest AU I've ever written" whenever I post a new fic?
> 
> It's this. This is the silliest AU I've ever written for this fandom. In case you're confused, just know that constantly being confused about the lore and nothing being adequately explained is just part of the Dark Souls experience, and yes, this is an actual sidequest you can do in Dark Souls 3 and it gets you a secret ending. Happy Valentine's Day, LMFAO.

They meet on the Road of Sacrifices, at the halfway fortress.

The walk from the Undead Settlement isn’t all that far at all, but then that is never the problem: the problem is the monsters laying between points A and B, in this case hideous crow-like warriors with four wings and scythes. Having learned this lesson the hard way twice now Talion picks the last three off from a distance before sprinting for the safety of the bonfire, and so he does not see the man already sitting there until after he has lit it.

He collapses to a seat with a sigh of relief— the bonfires are only slightly safer than the rest of this crumbling world, but he has never seen a monster approach one without provocation— and casts his gaze about his new haven, thus allowing it to fall upon the most beautiful man Talion has ever seen.

* * *

“I was born and raised in Anor Londo, like all my kind,” Celebrimbor tells him over the crackling of the fire. “But it has fallen, defiled by the Saint of the Deep, a shell of itself.”

Aldrich, Lord of Cinder. Talion looks: Celebrimbor’s Darksign sits low on the side of his throat. He is Undead, but also…

“Unkindled?”

Celebrimbor nods. “And you as well, I assume. Else there is nothing for you at the end of this road.”

“So you hunt Aldrich, not only for your duty as Unkindled, but also for your own sake.”

“Don’t we all?” Celebrimbor answers, smiling, and Talion’s heart stops.

* * *

His eyes shine like the distant stars, and he is the child of ancient fire. How Celebrimbor could possibly have failed to link the Flame, Talion does not know.

* * *

Talion summons Celebrimbor to his side just before the final chamber in the Cathedral of the Deep. The elf looks surprised to see him, but his expression quickly changes to a smile that warms Talion despite their bleak surroundings. They cannot speak to each other as phantoms, but Celebrimbor places a hand over his heart, and Talion knows that he is grateful.

The Saint of the Deep is not, in fact, in the cathedral which still houses his coffin.

But the trip is not a waste. Celebrimbor leaps into battle without any sign of complaint, and discovers the congregation’s weakness before Talion does, and together they carve their way through the crowd of priests and cut down the Archdeacon.

Celebrimbor bows as he fades away, but Talion is stopped from bowing back by the sight of a strange doll left in the ashes of their fallen foe.

By the time he has hastily scooped it up and turned back to face Celebrimbor again, the man is gone.

* * *

Fortunately, they meet again properly not long afterwards, at Firelink Shrine.

“My friend,” a familiar voice calls, and even before turning to face it something in Talion’s heart eases: clearly Celebrimbor does not hold his slip against him.

“Celebrimbor,” he greets, rising from the bonfire to meet him. “You have my thanks.”

But Celebrimbor waves it away. “One good deed for another,” he says simply.

* * *

Time is strange in Lothric, but even stranger in Firelink Shrine: there is never a sense of urgency in the Cemetery of Ash, no matter how much closer the rest of the world creeps toward death, and so the Unkindled spend as much time there as they wish. Celebrimbor, as befits a native of Anor Londo, possesses much knowledge now lost to the world below, and he shares it with Talion as they recover from the disappointment of the Cathedral.

“This grants entrance to the city of Irithyll,” he observes, examining the strange doll Talion found on the Archdeacon’s ashes.

“Irithyll?” Talion repeats, blood running cold in his veins. “The city of the moon?”

He had thought it a myth, a bedtime story told to frighten young children: behave, or the knights will take you away to the Boreal Valley, where it is always night and snow muffles the steps of monsters.

(Monsters had not actually existed, then. They came with the fading of the Flame.)

A strange expression passes over Celebrimbor’s face. “It serves now as the entrance to Anor Londo,” he says. “It was a normal city, once. But then the Pontiff came, and brought Aldrich with him.”

Talion sobers. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

“I’m not certain what tales you have heard, but they can hardly be any more horrifying than the truth. Irithyll is a dangerous place,” Celebrimbor says, “and not one fit for the living.”

“Fortunately, we are not living, are we?”

* * *

Celebrimbor is not the only new face in the shrine. The sorcerer from the Road of Sacrifices has taken up shop there as well, and Talion is surprised (and grieved) to approach Yoel’s little corner and find it attended by a woman, and a corpse.

“Yoel!” he cries. “What happened?”

“Oh, prithee…” the woman says. “Art thou Yoel’s good master?”

“He claimed so,” Talion says, “but I have always preferred to be a friend instead.”

“I see.” The woman bows. “I am Yuria of Londor, a close friend of his— and thanks to thee, his soul is redeem’d. Allow me to express my gratitude in his stead.”

Talion’s shoulders drop. Death is no stranger in Lothric, but here in this shrine, he had thought…

“I did nothing,” he says. “I only accepted his help, freely given.”

“And in doing so thou hast brought him close enough to the flame to give him the death he sought,” Yuria says. “A rare gift, in this age of Undead.”

“I know he would see it that way. But I will miss his company.”

“Thou’rt kind, o Lord.”

“My name is Talion. Lord was only what Yoel insisted on calling me.”

Yuria wears a full mask over her face— which should, perhaps, arouse suspicion, but so many of the Undead bear such hideous countenances that Talion does not think twice about it, except to wonder at the evenness of her voice and realize that he cannot read her expression while it is hidden. “Talion, then. As a woman of Londor, I may provide thee all the services that Yoel once did, and I look forward to knowing you in his stead.”

(This should not have been at all related to the tale of Celebrimbor. But it is, and Talion only realizes it when it is too late.)

* * *

The next time Talion returns to the Firelink Shrine, it is to return his first Lords of Cinder to their throne.

He had wondered why the noble Abyss Watchers had not returned to their thrones willingly, but had simply chalked it up to the pain of burning. (He knows it well, of course, being Unkindled himself.) A small part of him is ashamed to have ever doubted them, and…

...No, he is not proud. He will not be proud of forcing them to burn a second time, even if they themselves would have wished it, to save this dying world.

He seeks out Celebrimbor to distract himself, but finds the man missing from the shrine: it is to be expected, for he has his trials and his own journey to undertake, but Talion is still disheartened when he has checked the last corner and found nothing.

“Troubled, my Lord?”

“Don’t call me that,” Talion answers. “Lady Yuria. No, I was only searching for Celebrimbor, but it seems he has left already.”

“As must we all, eventually,” she says. “Congratulations, Talion. Thou’st bested a Lord of Cinder.”

Talion purses his lips. If it had been a true fight— a fair fight— his first death would have been his last. But he is Undead, and so as long as he does not give up there is no hope for any who would stand against him.

Not even a Lord of Cinder.

“Unsatisfied?”

“I couldn’t have done it alone,” Talion says. “I summoned help. I myself am no equal to them, and if I am the first and only to return a Lord of Cinder to their throne I fear for our future.”

“Thou desirest power.”

He wishes she would speak normally. “I only wish to protect what is precious to me.”

Yuria is silent a moment. “If that is so, then I see no reason to doubt our future— so long as thine heart remains unbent, the power thou seekest will come, in the form of allies.”

“That is a long-winded way of telling me that I shouldn’t be ashamed of seeking help,” Talion points out.

Yuria only laughs.

* * *

The Catacombs of Carthus are a miserable place, full of miserable skeletons and miserable self-propelled rolling balls of skeletons, and it is only after a trip to the blacksmith and back that Talion makes it far enough to find he is not the only Undead within.

(Celebrimbor is a blacksmith, he recalls. Would Celebrimbor have been able to bless Talion’s weapons, native of Anor Londo that he is? Surely he would not need special coal to do so. The light of the gods already shines in his eyes…)

It is one of the pilgrims of Londor, identical to Yoel, and with wide eyes Talion strays from his path to meet them.

“Stranger!” he cries. “This tomb is dangerous, even for one with no need of a walking stick!”

He cannot see the pilgrim’s face, but all the same they manage to appear surprised to see him. “Lord Talion! Oh, what a relief! Lord Celebrimbor has fallen!”

Talion is stopped from protesting the continued usage of _my lord_ by the pilgrim’s words. He freezes on the spot, eyes wide, seeing nothing. Celebrimbor…

“Ahh— no, my lord,” the pilgrim goes on hastily. “Not the final fall, from which there is no returning. I only mean that he has fallen; the skeletons you passed on your way here pushed him to the cliff, and he fell to the smouldering lake below.”

Talion’s relief, however heavy, is short-lived. He peers over the edge of the cliff and finds that the lake in question is far below indeed.

“Is there a safe way down?” he asks urgently.

* * *

Rescuing Celebrimbor is quite an adventure. The poor man is trapped when Talion finds him, by the great ballista on one side and the greater Carthus Sandworm on the other, and with the injuries he sustained from the fall he cannot outrun either. The worm, funnily enough, is the lesser obstacle: Talion has only to sprint past it to the other side and allow the ballista to do his work for him.

The ballista, on the other hand, requires picking his way through a veritable maze, running past enemies he cannot hope to defeat and relying on the messages of those who came before him to locate all the illusory walls hiding the way. By the time he has located the mechanism to disarm the ballista Talion is bruised and battered, and surprised to find Celebrimbor meeting him halfway on the return trip.

“Celebrimbor!” he cries, breaking into a run. Celebrimbor looks rather as though he should not be standing, as though every breath brings him pain, and if he falls then Talion would feel better if someone were there to catch him.

Celebrimbor only reaches for him in response, collapsing into Talion’s arms the moment he is within reach.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, as Talion hefts him up onto his shoulders. “You are ever seeking to help me, though I have done nothing for you.”

“That’s not true,” Talion retorts. “And even if it were, you hardly need to do anything to deserve help.”

He carries Celebrimbor to the nearest bonfire, extracts a promise to return to the Shrine and rest, and watches Celebrimbor vanish into the flames before continuing his own journey with a sigh— but also with a strange lightness in his heart.

(He does not know it yet, but it is at this point that Celebrimbor realizes what Talion has known for himself all along: that the world is not so bleak and grey when Talion is near, and that he desires to be by Talion’s side always.

Unfortunately, among those who witness his revelation is Yuria.)


End file.
